Aconitum
by Illuminating Rainbow Light
Summary: Trapped in a thick web spun with peril and deceit, the flawed comfort of luxury certainly isn't all that it seems. And Raina must either find a way out of the tangle or be devoured by the monster lurking beyond the veil.
1. i

**Unfortunately, Prism Fire won't be able to continue this story. With her permission I am taking this story on upon myself, adding new details to the thick plot I have planned. The characters aren't exactly the same from her story, but you should be able to pick out the similarities in them if you have read Aurora Borealis.  
**

**Please Enjoy.**

* * *

**.Raina.**

_"No!"_

The shrill cry ripped from my throat, a icy knife of terror plunging into my heart and causing me to freeze in a stupor of petrification. A pair of hands latched onto my upper arms, awaking fresh pain within me. The crack of the gunshot continued to resound through the alley way, the thump of my brother's body collapsing on the pavement echoing much louder than the boom. I wrenched myself out of the Gatherer's grip, sprinting to where my brother lay with a bullet in his head.

"Brighton," I sobbed. "Brighton!"

My elder siblings handsome features were marred by the wound in his forehead, his dark hair matted with blood and his dead blue eyes gawking up at the night sky he could not see. The Gatherer's footsteps were approaching, the pounding nothing compared to the sound of my Brighton's falling remains. I quickly took off the silver chain around his neck, wrapping it around mine. My fingers fumbled as I fought to click the clasp together, clinging to his torso once I had done so.

"Let's go," the Gatherer growled.

"Brighton," I whimpered, my fingers wound in his shirt. I was yanked from him, my limbs flailing as I sought to grab a hold of him, to press my fingers to his neck and search for a pulse that was not there, to intake his smell riddled with gore one last time. His name left me in a scream, a scream that barely could be recognized as human. _"Brighton!" _

"Raina!" My sister wailed as she struggled in the grip of another man dressed in gray. "Raina-"

My grief stricken face turned upward to see her being loaded into the back of a truck. And I was following her.

"You killed him!" I screeched. "You _killed him! _Brighton!"

Head over heels I was thrown into the vehicle like inanimate cargo, the doors sealing off all light and hope of escape behind me. I skidded across the floor, jostling other bodies. In the darkness, two hands clasped my face.

"Raina," my sister's voice whispered. I responded by bringing her to my chest. Her face was also soaked with tears.

"Shhhh," I uttered. "It's okay, Catherine. We're going to be okay."

In reality our future was unclear, muddled by the decisions of the Gatherers. We were just the pawns in the slowly dying world. My brother had been a king. He had been slayed like an animal without a second thought. A mutiny by outsiders who spoiled the precious life we had attempted to live.

In the ebony darkness the back of the van rattled with life. Each bump and turn brought a new whisper of complaint, the inhales of what I assumed to be the others girls held prisoner by the Gatherers moving as one conjoined lung. My heart hammered in my ears as the journey went on, cold adrenaline mixing with the terror in my bloodstream. I held my little sister close, her face buried in my chest. My eyes were peeled, unable to adjust to the pure inkiness of the back of the van. Every breath I took brought on a new fear and an old memory of my older brother. He had been our protector, the two of us working odd jobs to keep Catherine alive. We lived in an abandoned house in the scarlet district where the bass of the clubs pummeled our senses and women sold their bodies to lustful men on every street corner. I refused to become one of them with slouched shoulders, desolate faces, and empty eyes.

Empty, dead, blue eyes...

I longed to sob and break down, silent tears leaking into Catherine's hair as she slept. You were not allowed to show weakness when you had to remain strong for a young one, a young one who would panic as soon as you began to lose control. Reality was nonexistent. The only real things were the air in my lungs, Catherine's sleeping form, and the other girls sobbing and rustling about like wounded livestock.

_"Brighton! I bet you can't catch me!" _

_ Brighton pursued me, his dark curls bobbing. "You can run but you can't hide!" _

The memory dissolved and transformed into another. This time the six and four year old had grown to eight and six.

_"Mom says while she's working we have to stay here," Brighton announced. "We have to look after baby Catherine." _

_ The blonde little girl, just over one, smiled at the both of us. _

_ "What if I can't watch you guys?" Brighton asked, his voice soft with anxiety._

_ I smoothed back my dark hair and looked at him. "Don't worry. You're a good big brother," I assured. _

The two siblings grew to teenagers.

_"How come you always have to work by my side?"_

_ Brighton turned to face me, his blue eyes intense and jaw tight with tension. I gripped Catherine's hand tighter, her tiny form clinging to my side. _

_ "If I leave you, I could lose you," he said. "And that's not going to be happening any time soon." _

"Brighton," I croaked.

There were monsters slinking about in the shadowy veil that cloaked my vision from possible sight. Monsters with big hands that could wring my neck. Creatures that held guns to my temples and caused bodies to sickeningly thump upon the pavement. Beasts that masked the future from my sight. They existed maybe not as beings of the darkness, but men who stole you from your home and killed your only remaining family. They were the viruses that lurked in our DNA, the only flaw in our perfectly crafted and immune genes. It was the cancer upon society, uncertain but existent.

What did I know for certain?

_ 'Think, Raina,' _my brain demanded. My brain was anchor, tethering me to sanity. _'My name is Raina Avon. My mother is Emelyne Avon, or she was. She died when our house caught on fire. I don't know who my father is. I just turned sixteen. I will die when I'm twenty. Brighton was my brother. He was supposed to die when he was twenty-five. Catherine is my only remaining sibling. She is my sister. We were taken by Gatherers. They killed Brighton. Brighton is dead and we might be next.' _

The metal floor below me was certain. The mewls of the girls like lost, scared kittens. The rumbling of the engine. The soft, blonde strands of Catherine's hair.

Minutes, hours, maybe even days passed before truck slowly grinded to a halt. It was hard to tell if I had closed my eyes or even slept in the perpetual night of the van. A voice screamed, fingers clawing at the walls of our prison. The engine idled and came to a stop. Catherine clung tighter to me, face pressed into my shirt.

"We're going to be okay," I muttered into her ear. "Everything is going to be fine."

A shaft of light illuminated the dark, the beam growing into four more as the doors creaked on their hinges and the lock was undone. Catherine quivered, her body convulsing with fright. The doors popped and swung open, Catherine's face retreating farther in my shirt as my eyes fought to adjust to the light. The intense luminescence disrupted my vision, my legs shuffling away from the silhouettes of the men standing in the doorway. Their voices were harsh on my ears as they commanded for us to get out, the wails and whimpers around me falling silent only to be resumed by labored breathing and shaking beings.

Catherine clung to my hand as we both stepped out of the back of the van, her eyes squinted against the evening light. The sun was setting in the west, a smoldering oval at the peak of dusk. My little sister's hair, every shade of golden blonde, glowed in the light as if she was some sort of angelic being. It didn't help that she was wearing a white dress, torn, tattered, and spotted by the fight and our time in the vehicle. She would be bought for sure, her future bright.

The other girls filed out before us and behind us, the Gatherer's putting us into lines. They measured our waists and busts and the girls were separated accordingly by their measurements. I kept my sister by my side, my grip tight on hers. I refused to be taken away from my remaining family.

"Raina," Catherine squeaked, her voice tight with oncoming tears. "I wanna go home. I'm scared."

I crouched down so I was level with her, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. "We have to be brave, Cat. Promise me that no matter what happens you'll be brave."

She nodded, her gentle curls rolling. Her deep blue eyes locked with mine, and she uttered, "I promise. Promise you'll be just as brave too. Even braver. And if you get chosen as a wife and your husband is sweet, be nice it him, okay? He's not a Gatherer. Please? For me."

I used my fingers to tilt her chin up and then I straightened her posture and pushed her shoulders back. "I will. Be confident. Be brave, Catie. I love you, sweetie."

I turned around, Catherine slipping something into my hand. I tightened my hand around the cool metal of the object, my heart jolting when I realized what she had given to me.

The sound of tires over gravel brought me back to reality, my gaze flitting over to see several limos being parked by our lineup. Catherine took in a deep breath behind me.

Men of all ages got out of the limos, dressed in fine clothing, their shoes crunching as they strode across the pebbles. My heart pounded faster in my chest, a very fat first generation running a meaty hand over my breast as he passed. Venom and bile rose in my throat but I remained fixed to my spot, refusing to leave Catherine. Other men passed me without a second glance. A sick looking man with bruises on his skin and bags under his eyes (he was obviously twenty-five for the virus had set in) holding hands with a pretty young boy walked by us. I watched as the boy, about eleven or twelve, skidded backward and looked at Catherine.

"Hi," he greeted with a grin.

Catherine returned his gesture with a shy and nervous smile. His hazel eyes gazed into her blue ones, the pair of them staring at each other for a long moment.

"Leonardo, let's keep moving." The man he was with was obviously his father, his hazel eyes pale in death and his brunette hair the exact shade as his son's.

The boy ignored him. "I'm Leo. What's your name?"

"Catherine," Cat answered softly.

"Leonardo," his father repeated.

"Dad, can she come live with us?" Leo questioned. "I like her. She's got mom's hair."

"Yes, when your mother was alive, she did have blonde hair," the father sighed. "If that's what you wish. Let's find another-"

"I just want her," Leo objected as he was dragged away. "I don't wanna have three wives like you did-"

Catherine inhaled sharply again, my heart sprinting as another pair of footsteps neared me. My eyes darted to my boots when a pair of well polished dress shoes stopped by mine. My eyes slowly followed his slacks, his white dress shirt and black blazer with silver buttons. A neck, a handsome jaw line with the faintest traces of stubble, a pair of deep green eyes like an evergreen forest, and an easy smile. The attractive man seemed to be about two years older than me, his tall and strong frame towering a good three inches over mine. He nodded, saying something to a Gatherer as he passed. He gave me one last warm smile and returned to his car.

"Raina," Catherine gasped. I turned to see her in the clutches of one of the men in gray. Other Gatherers were taking a group of girls behind the van, their hands on their holsters.

"Catherine," I exhaled, fighting to yell as I was grabbed by a Gatherer and yanked toward the cars. Catherine was losing her battle, my perception of direction blinded by a surge of adrenaline. "_Catherine!"_

"Raina!" Catherine wailed as she was hoisted over his shoulder like a measly sack of potatoes, her hands extended frantically to me.

The man was pushing me into the back of a limo, my heart as fast as a pair of hummingbird's wings. _"Cat!" _I shrieked. _"Catherine!"_

Several gunshots screeched louder than the screams of the girls by the van, the gravel surrounding the circumference of the area around the van turning dark red.

"_Raina_!"

There was a gunshot, my knuckles white around the locket as the limo door slammed close. I was an earthquake, spasming with tremors and causing the other girls in the back of the limo to shake and sob.

The vents above us hissed and the world faded before me.

* * *

_"This is hard," the little girl complained. "How come I have to do this?" _

_ "Because learning how to play an instrument is a lost art, Rain," the mother explained, smoothing back her daughter's hair. "When Catherine is older, I'll teach her how to play the piano." _

_ "How come Brighton doesn't have to learn how to play an instrument?" the tiny girl asked, her bow drawing out an unpleasant note on the violin out of frustration. _

_ "Brighton is a bit different from you, sweetie," the mother said. "While your strong suits are patience and perseverance, Brighton likes to put his brain to a different use. While he's defiantly just as stubborn and persistent as you, baby, he would rather build something with his hands than his brain. Do you understand?" _

_ The tiny girl nodded, her dark hair bobbing. _

_ "Now try again." _

_ The girl drew the bow across the strings, her fingers moving purposefully as she played a few simple notes that soon transformed into a song. She grinned once she had gotten the hang of it, hugging her mother's neck. _

_ "Thanks, Mama!"_

The scene transformed.

_ In their back yard a pair of children two years apart, each with a dark mop of hair, ran about, a ball bouncing between the two of them. The boy let out a screech of happiness, tackling his sister. They rolled across the ground, their hands wrestling for possession of the ball as the wriggled and laughed. Afterwards the girl made a wreath out of flowers for her head, quickly scrapping one together for her brother so they could be the rulers of the world in their yard. Sprawled about in the grass with their heads canted up to the blue heavens above as they found animals in the clouds, hands open and fingers pointed to trace different shapes. _

_ Smoke suddenly choked the two children, as their world came crashing down, a blonde toddler in the girl's arms. The yard aged, the sky darkening, the pretty little white house orange with flames, and the night alive with screams. _

The dream spun like my stomach, the memories dissolving into nothingness. I felt my lungs heave as my eyes shot opened.

The grass that hand been below me became satin sheets sticky with sweat, my stomach churning violently. The bile that had been lodged in my throat from before ascending, creeping up my esophagus and burning my throat. My fingers tightened, my heart jolting when I didn't feel the locket in my grip. My fingertips brushed against my neck to find the chain, my eyes shooting over to the bedside table where I located my sister's silver locket. I picked it up, tracing the small silver circle, the two prongs that grew up from the top of the circle and joined together where a chain could loop through. A diamond was perched at the bottom nook of the forking branches. My shaking hands fumbled with the button on the side, the locket swinging open to reveal a small lock of my sister's hair fastened to one half and a minute inscription in the other.

_You will keep me safe and you will keep me close and rain will make the flowers grow_

"Catherine," I rasped, my voice raw from disuse. Following her name came a wave of nausea. I toppled off my bed in the rush, my legs weak. I struggled to make it to the bathroom to the bed's left in time, my hand flipping the lip up as the contents of my stomach emptied into the bowl.

A pair of gentle hands pulled my hair back, twisting it up in a clip. The hands set a cool cloth on the back of my neck and then rubbed my back. I tensed, dry heaving as I spluttered into a coughing fit.

"It's almost over," the voice of a young child assured.

I coughed and retched once more, my stomach settling as I sat back on the balls of my feet. The cloth moved to my forehead, the heat on my skin subsiding to the icy towel.

"There. You're done. You're fever is already going down."

"W-Where am I?" I asked in a pant.

"The Banner Mansion," another voice said, the voice of a boy. "You were brought here with the other girls in the limo. You were unconscious from the sleeping gas."

I turned around to find two small children behind me, the two of them age eight and identical. The two of them had matching gray eyes, autumn brown hair, and were the same height. Twins. Each a half of a whole.

"Sleep gas?" I repeated.

"The driver had to use it because you girls were getting hysterical," the boy said.

"It's cruel," the girl interjected. "When you wake up, it makes you sick. But it's wearing off. You were only out for three days."

_ 'Three days?!' _

"Why am I here? Where's Catherine?"

"Catherine?" the girl echoed in bemusement.

"You were Gathered," the boy expounded. "Gathered with other girls to become wives."

My heart thudded to a stop, my mind reeling. I had heard about the wives. When I was younger I had seen them on TV on the arms of first generations and second generations, the generation prone to the virus. Gatherers took girls from orphanages or from the streets, even kidnapping them from homes if they thought they were worth the fight. In the dying world, the girls were tools for breeding. If you were gathered, you were either bought by a man to be his wife, sold into prostitution, or if deemed unworthy of either slaughtered and tossed in the nearest ditch.

"She's my sister," I choked out. I refused to say was. "She was taken from me. There were so many gunshots. And we were separated by the men in gray. And-"

My chest racked with sobs, tears streaming down my face in fresh and overpowering grief.

"She's probably fine, my lady," the girl said. "If she didn't go to the van, then she's fine."

I sucked in a deep breath, hiccuping as I fought to calm myself down.

"I'm going to go see if my keeper is awake," the boy said. He left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm Madison. That was my brother Mason," the girl told me. "I'm your domestic, which means I'm your personal caregiver, okay? Governor Darren wants to meet you so we have to get you ready."

"Governor Darren?"

"His father and mother are the Housemasters. I work for you under them. Governor Darren is going to be your husband in a few days. Let's get you into the tub and I'll tell you more."

Madison ran the water as I got undressed, hot steam filling the bathroom. I slipped into the white claw foot tub, the soap slightly burning and tingling my skin. As soon as the water washed over my skin, my aching bones immediately calmed, my fried nerves returning to normal. The solvents crackled and fizzed as I sunk myself further into the water, Madison scrubbing my hair with sweet smelling shampoo and conditioner.

"I understand that you were Gathered from your orphanages and off the street. I know what happens. My brother and I were Gathered from our orphanage but I was sold to be a domestic like him, not a wife. The Banners are good people. They work fruit producers here in Michigan. They grow everything that can be grown here from apple and pears to cherries and blueberries. The orchards are so pretty and I just know you'll love them. What's your name, by the way?"

As she ran a shower head over my head and rinsed the conditioner from my hair I answered, "Raina."

"That's a really pretty name," Madison chirped. "_Raina_. I'm just Madison."

I didn't answer, too sullen to reply. I could still hear my sister's cries and my brother's body hitting the concrete.

"Raina?" Madison asked gently. "I know you're scared. Terrible things have happened. I know first hand. I used to be one third of a trio of triplets."

My gaze shockingly met hers. "I was one third of a trio of siblings," I mumbled on the brink of tears once again.

Her soft fingers massaged my scalp and while the hot water soothed my exterior it did not console my interior. Sweltering coils of sorrow latched on around my soul like a parasite, the edges of the feelers serrated with strikingly sharp animosity. My nails pierced my skin as I hugged myself, fighting to find some comfort in the fact that my brother existed in a better place even if it was eons away from me. Catherine was gone, hopefully alive and well. I could only pray to the unfair heavens above that she was safe and in the same position as me. That Leo boy had seemed so fixated on her (which wasn't a surprise for Cat had the gift of charming anyone's heart). As long as I lied to myself and saw her there in a bed with downy pillows and an adoring friend in the young male as they read books and ate ice cream and plucked out notes on the piano while my sister blew him away with her stunning ability to play.

Madison helped me out of the tub, drying me off with a table and handing me a pile of clothes. Once dressed I exited the bathroom, my hair twisted up in the towel. My attire consisted of a light blue button up shirt with white opal buttons and long sleeves, a pair of dark jeans, and black flats. They fit me perfectly as if they were made just for me.

But seeing the riches of the mansion just in my bedroom, I wouldn't doubt it. The carpet was as soft as velvet and an ivory white, the blankets blue with rippling, lashing waves. The pillows were soft like silk and blue and white like the foam capped wave design on the blanket. There was a cherry wood dresser with a beautiful mounted mirror (the rim was incrusted with what looked to be pearls), the bedside tablet made of the same wood. There was a couch and an ottoman on one wall, and to the right of my bed up off the floor at my hip height was a pair of huge windows that opened out to the orchards below, a wide rim before the widows already decorated with pillows for a person to lay on and observe the outside world. The Banners were richer than rich. And I was going to be married into the family.

It would have been a thrilling thought if my brother wasn't dead and Catherine wasn't gone, her life an unsure variable.

Madison unraveled the towel from my head, dropping it down the laundry shoot in my wall on the opposite side of the room. She dried my hair, whipping it up out of my face. She worked on my makeup in silence, painting my face and making me beautiful.

"There!" She exclaimed. She stood me up and guided me to the mirror where I gazed at the new person before me.

In the mirror was a girl with her night dark hair, the color of a raven's wing pulled elegantly up in a bun with a braid wrapping around the bottom of it near the top of her head in the back. Her cheeks gave off a healthy glow, her lips glossed with a light shade of lipstick and her straight teeth shining when her mouth became ajar. Long, dark lashes fluttered when she blinked. Her eyes were shards of ice, two gorgeous pieces of the sky.

Everything about my look was natural. But even though Madison had worked so hard, I still didn't feel right. The grief unbearable as if someone was sitting on my chest, compressing my every breath and making it near impossible to breathe. Madison evidently saw the agony etched on my features and took my hand.

"I'm sorry, Raina. It's not his fault. It's the Gatherers. They took your sibling like they took mine. Take a deep breath. This is your life now."

I couldn't help but adore her even if I wanted to punch her in the face.

_"Promise you'll be just as brave too." _Catherine's warmth drifted through me like the summer breeze.

"I promise," I vowed aloud.

"Hmmm?" Madison's eyebrows raised as we left my room and into the hallway, the rug in front of my door like a welcome mat a crimson red.

My brother's blood flashed back to me, his corpse in the pool of blood with the other girls by the van.

I winced. Catherine's voice breathed through me once again.

_"Even braver." _

I straightened my back, aligned my shoulders with my spine, and entered the elevator at the end of the hall. Madison pressed the button, waving as the doors closed between us and I was left alone.

The floor fell beneath my feet, the elevator traveling down the shaft. My pulse raced in my chest as I forced down the lump rising in my throat. I had to be brave for Catherine. For Brighton. He would want me to put up with the hell I was trapped in, to throw my chin high and thrive in his absence. I could hear the thrum of the power over the wires, the click as I passed several floors, and then finally the ding when I landed at my destination.

The elevator doors separated and the male from before was there waiting for me.

My pulse quickened when I stepped out and he moved toward me. His green eyes focused upon mine, a thousand watt smile brightening up his whole handsome face. I succumbed to his beam and blushed in his presence. He had changed out of his blazer into a pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt.

"Hi."

I blinked in response, fighting to smother the spiteful inferno raging on my insides. _'Why do you get to live? Why did it have to be Brighton instead of you?' _

"Do you want to go outside?"

I gave him a faint nod. He opened the doors out of the room and held them open for me as I stepped out into the light.

It was the afternoon, the sun high in the sky. The pleasant aroma of flowers in bloom tumbled under my nose and I gladly inhaled the scent. It relaxed my nerves and tense muscles, my heart skipping back to a normal beat. I waited for him to come down the steps and he stood in front of me.

"I'm Darren," he introduced. He held out his hand and I swallowed hard before taking it. My eyebrows knitted together when his grip closed over mind, his touch foreign but comfortable. Then I remembered my kidnapping, Brighton's slaughter, the other girls dead in a ditch somewhere, and my malice was renewed.

_ "And if you get chosen as a wife and your husband is sweet, be nice it him, okay? He's not a Gatherer."_

My sister was always wise beyond her years. I removed my hand from his and waited for him to speak.

"I thought I could show you the cherry orchard. The trees are in bloom." Darren's voice was gentle and sweet even though he looked like a kicked puppy when I didn't respond.

Darren offered his arm in a chivalrous manner and I linked my arm from his, shivering slightly when our skin touched. Catherine would have liked his evergreen eyes and radiant smile. Brighton was serious, but caring to his sisters. He was a puzzle waiting to be solved. Darren was the exact opposite of my brother's mysterious ways and guarded emotions. Darren was an open book.

Darren's yard was expanse. For about the first thousand feet or so it was all grass. The Victorian mansion (a gorgeous light blue) was to the south, apple trees to the east, cherries to the north, and pears to the west. In the 1/4 mile that wasn't covered by trees there was a pond, a greenhouse, a trampoline, a hot spring, and a tennis court.

"This pond is actually an underground pool," Darren explained as we passed it. "It's designed to look like a pond to give it a more natural look."

The water was dark and shimmering but clear so a person could gaze all the way to the bottom. It was shallower on one end and deep on the other. Fake cattails were stationed on one side by the plastic water lilies, the water stinking of chlorine. What I thought was a hot spring was actually just an underground hot tub by the "pond".

Darren escorted me into the cherry trees, the canopy of branches humming with bees and bird chatter. The grove was nothing I had ever experienced before. I had grown up in a concrete jungle which was the once huge city of Chicago, the only nature consisting of withered flora and thin pigeons for fauna.

Darren stretched up and plucked a blossom from the tree with an expertise hand, giving it to me so it rested in my palm. I gave the flower a hesitant sniff, a smile tugging on the corners of my lips.

"This is what we do. We supply fruit all over the states. We have a lot of workers and hire new hands each year, but they're all generally good people. My father makes sure of that."

I closed my fingers around the flower, reopening my hand to only have it blow away.

"Here! I'll get you a new one and-"

"It's okay," I interrupted, my thoughts still apprehensive about speaking. Darren spun around at the sound of my voice. His eyes glowed as he beamed.

"I'm Raina," I said softly.

"Raina." He tried the name out on his tongue with another wide smile. "Raina. That's...That's great. Well, Raina. We should probably be heading back. My father doesn't know that I left working in his office to meet you."

I dipped my head, looped my arm through his, and we headed back to the mansion. The mansion I oddly didn't entirely mind calling my prison.

* * *

_~Illumini_


	2. ii

**shalom378- **Thank you so much! You have no idea how much that comment warmed my heart :)

* * *

**I might as well get things going. **

**Please Enjoy. **

* * *

**.Raina. **

Sleep was elusive but inevitable. Even when the state of unconsciousness seemed out of reach, it had a way of sneaking up on a person. It didn't help that my bed was the most comfortable thing I had ever experienced sleeping on in my life.

After meeting Darren and being escorted back to the mansion I was locked in my room, forced to entertain myself and eat when lunch and dinner came. Meaningless music came from a room nearby, whispers and footsteps in the halls. When the day had finally ticked lethargically away I jumped early into bed, closing my eyes and feinting heavy breathing when Madison came to check on me. The rest of the night I spent wide awake, swirling in memories and trying to configure Brighton and Catherine's safe appearances. The darkness behind my eyelids only closed in when my clock read six.

I awoke to my clock reading two.

I sat up in bed, an outfit laid out neatly on the ottoman by Madison's gentle hands. I slipped it on, the fabric of the sweater soft like the feathers of a baby chick and the jeans flexible unlike the stiff ones at home.

_'Home...' _

Where was my home? Brighton was dead. Catherine was gone. We had lived in one abandoned building after the other with out few things, always on the move when a new job sprung up or danger was on the horizon. I didn't have a home. As much as I hated it, this was now the only place I could consider home. Pulses of heat vibrated through me at the thought, dislike and misery an iron fist wringing out my heart. I took a deep breath, picking at the lunch left for me on the tray and then brushing my hair and teeth. Once decent I approached my door. My hand closed around the cool metal, the knob twisted under my grip, and the door clicked open.

My heart gave a flutter as I stuck my head out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. Not a foot tread over bloody sea that was the oriental rug or the cream ocean that was the rest of the carpet that made up the floor of the hallway. The walls were a peach color framed with cream colored paint and pink furniture here and there. There were a trio of crimson rugs stationed in front of three other doors. The sound of muffled music came from the door to the left of mine. My feet more than happily hopped off the red rug and took a few steps down the girly corridor, knocking on the room with the music. When no one answered I opened the door and peered in.

The music that had appeared to be scarce became blaring as I found out it was at full volume, our rooms just mostly soundproofed and noise absorbent so any crash and bang was a murmur in the hallway. Now that the door was open the thunderous tune blasted into the rest of the upstairs. I covered my ears as a girl that looked about my age bounced on her bed, eyes closed and lips moving as she sung along, her head aflame with dark red hair. A huge pair of speakers were sticking out of her wall along with a control board for the music. The girl's eyelids snapped open to reveal two sea blue orbs staring back at me. She coiled, the muscles in her legs tightening, and leaped into the air as she front flipped off the bed and landed on the balls of her feet. She tried to talk to me over the sound but I shook my head, ears still covered as I tried to keep them from bleeding. The whole room was quaking with the boom of the bass, a guitar solo ripping through the air. The teen pressed a button on the board and the music stopped, the speakers and board sinking back and the wall flipping over them as if they were never there.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I couldn't help myself."

My hands fell off of my ears and rested back by my sides. "It's okay. You're entitled."

"Ah!" the girl exclaimed with a wicked grin. She waved me in, scrambled up onto her bed, and patted the spot next to her. "Finally someone who speaks my language. The brunette came over earlier and yelled at me. Something about disturbing her beauty sleep. I told her to shut up and turned the music up louder."

I couldn't help but giggle. I gnawed on my bottom lip anxiously, forehead wrinkled with apprehension. I plopped down next to her. Where my room was blue, her's was a dusty rose. Her covers were speckled with flowers, all the exact same furniture that was in my room in hers except for it was the dusty rose color. She spotted me looking and grimaced.

"I _hate _the color pink. I would take anything, even black, if it meant I didn't have to have this pukey pink. What color theme is your room?"

"Blue," I answered.

It was quiet for a moment before the girl spoke again.

"I'm Amelia and I'm entitled," she joked bitterly. "After all I was stolen right from my own home to live here and bare some stranger's children. As long as it is for the _better _of _society_."

"I was taken off the street," I responded. "I didn't have a home."

"I have a family," Amelia said. "A mother and a father. A twin."

My ears perked up. "A twin?"

"Her name is Annie," Amelia told me with a proud smile. "We're identical through and through. She's older by a full minute so of course that means I'm the little one, the baby. That's what my mom thinks, anyway. Annie is too nice to brag. Well, she's also deaf, so."

_'Malformed,' _my thoughts uttered.

"I had a brother and a sister." I spoke as I fought to keep the tears back.

"The kid behind you, right? With the blonde hair?"

I nodded. "The Gatherers separated us."

Amelia put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "What happened to your brother?"

"They...they uh..." I swallowed. "They killed him."

Amelia flushed bright red with anger. "Damn them. Damn them all to hell, that's my mentality. Especially our future 'husband' for bringing us here. Have you met him?"

I inclined my head. "Darren."

"Yeah. I'm going to find a way home one way or another. My mother runs an orphanage in Florida. She knows I'll get home one way or another. Either in a box or in one piece. What did you say your was?"

"Raina."

"Raina and Amelia. Amelia and Raina. You don't say a lot, do you?"

I shrugged.

"Shrugging is such a noncommittal gesture, you know that?"

I went to shrug again but stopped.

"I can already tell we're going to be great friends. _Sister wives. _That's another thing I hate, polygamy. I believe in soul mates as cheesy as that sounds. So how do you get food in this joint? Mason brought me lunch but I'm allergic to peanuts. _Deathly _allergic. I should tell the kitchen that."

As Amelia pressed the buzzer on her door frame, Madison appeared in the doorway.

"Lady Raina! We have to get you ready for the wedding! It's nearly three thirty!"

I shot an apologetic glance at Amelia when Madison took me by the hand and yanked me from Amelia's room and back to mine.

"Lady Amelia is something else," Madison said as if she was discussing fine poetry with absolute sophistication. "She is a bit irrational, but is nice enough once she decides you are on her good side. I brought her ice cream last night when Mason was sick with a cold. He's well enough to help her get ready, but I wanted him to rest before he tried to tame her into a seat for an hour or so. You'll be fine. You're a different kind of nice, Raina. Sincere to all instead of the few."

I blushed. Brighton had always scolded me for being "too soft" with strangers or "too shy" and "too quiet" when trying to apply for jobs. One time there had been a quad of young, starving children on the porch of our abandoned home and I gave them food against Brighton's orders. Their yellowed skin and hollow faces would have haunted my every waking moment if I had sent them away.

Madison gave me a white matching strapless bra and underwear to change into, sitting me down on the ottoman while she pulled up a side table and a box of makeup. She rubbed a thin layer of foundation into my face, adding a few light strokes of blush for some color on my cheeks.

"Your skin is so pale it's almost sickly," Madison commented. "You look like some kind of ghost with those eyes and dark hair."

I didn't respond as she applied eyeshadow and eyeliner. She spread gloss on my lips, holding up a tissue for me to blot. I could only hope that she wasn't painting me with drastic colors of neon or dark purples and blues. Once she was done with my face she worked on my hair, pulling it up and curling it with different tools.

"You have such a nice facial structure so you might as well show it off," Madison said expertly.

She went on and on as the time ticked away, the sun lowering in my window and dusk spreading on the horizon. Every now and again she would tsk and wipe at makeup on my face, her gentle hands tugging here and there on my hair and rearranging it until every last strand was perfectly resting in its ideal place. Madison muttered to herself about different shades of lipstick, trying bright reds and pale pinks before cleaning it away and trying another.

"Red looks good on your lips, Lady Raina," Madison chirped. "But not with this dress. Hmm. Yes, this will do."

"What's going to happen tonight?" I inquired. "Will there be a lot of people?"

"There will probably be guests, yes. Governor Darren has a brother and a sister, but I don't think his older brother will be attending."

"Why?"

"He just turned twenty-five. Governor Darren's father works with a man who is great with medicine and is trying to help him stay alive, but..."

I nodded. "What is his name?"

"Governor Dustin."

"And my to-be husband's sister?"

"Lady Danielle. She moved out shortly before you were brought here. She's the youngest, only fifteen, and is expecting a baby."

With one last dab and blot on my lips she examined me and gave my look a final nod. "Wonderful! Let's get you in your dress."

The soft material melted onto my skin exactly in my shape as if it was made for me. Without looking I asked, "Madison? Did you make all these clothes for me?"

"Before you were brought up to your rooms and while you were still unconscious, a doctor inspected you for fertility and health and took your measurements for each domestic to make perfectly fitting clothes for their keeper," Madison expounded. "Turn around and look at yourself."

I pivoted as I was told, my heart racing and stomach dropping in nervousness. There in the mirror there I stood, my dark hair in a high bun with two swirls of hair that wasn't pinned up curling down to frame my face on either side. My eyes seemed to pop dramatically, a pair of stunning ice blue jewels in two pools of smokey gray eyeshadow. My lips were a natural pink was the rest of my face. I was a phantom of a girl with my pale skin and white dress that only added to the unworldly effect. The lace gown was strapless and had diamonds inner worked into the fabric so it twinkled and billowed when I moved. On my feet were white flats. There was a silver clip in my hair where the veil rested, draped back and waiting to be pulled over my face. I truly was a ghost.

Even as beautiful as I looked, I still had no desire whatsoever to be married.

Madison lead me out into the hallway, down the elevator, and into the lobby. For the first time I saw my other sister wives.

Amelia was up on a stool, Mason polishing her shoes as she held up her sleek dress, strapless with a heart shaped collar and the material tight around her bust then draping freely down in a rippling river of silk. Her dark red hair was curled in gentle s-curls. Her veil was decorated with minute prisms of glass that shown in twinkling rainbows when her veil caught the breeze. She spotted me staring and gave me a wink.

The eldest girl who seemed to be a year older than me had her face contorted up in obvious irritation. Her domestic was trying to add the final touches to her up-do, a gorgeous and elegant braid that weaved around her head in a halo of copper blonde hair. Her green-gray were two jewels of annoyance as she hissed to the small girl with hair so blonde it seemed to be white. My older sister wife was dressed in a white wedding dress that was strapless and mermaid styled, the dress studded with diamonds and silver pearls.

When my eyes landed upon the last girl, my heart stuttered to a stop. Catherine stood there, rocking on the balls of her feet in a pair of silver heels. Her dress flooded like a cloud, hair braided around the front of her head and the rest in tight, corkscrew curls so her hair hovered around her head like an elastic halo. But the more I studied her, the more I realized that this was in fact _not _my sister. There were things out of place. Her hair was not golden but a dirty blonde, her eyes not made up of the sea but two puddles of melted chocolate. Freckles arched visibly over her sun kissed skin, not pale and ivory like Catherine's, like mine and Brighton's, like our mother's. A girl with pale ginger hair was tending to her, the littlest bride grinning with excitement.

"It's time," an attendant announced as he burst into the room. The copper blonde shrugged her domestic away when she tried to put a bedazzled butterfly clip in her hair.

Madison handed me a candy and I popped it in my mouth, my heart pummeling my ribcage into a pulp. Butterflies rocketed around in my stomach, bile creeping it's way up my throat once again. I played with the candy with my tongue, trying to be soothed by the minty taste. The domestics then lined us up in order of our age, the dirty blonde in front followed by Amelia, me, and last the copper blonde. The attendant held the door open for us and the littlest to-be wife lead the way in a bouncing skip. Amelia grumbled a profanity under her breath.

There might have been music but it was hard to hear anything over the thunderous roar of my heart like the pulsating heat of a truck engine with the muffler detached. The sky shimmered in the twilight, the stars glistening and twinkling in the inky curtain of night above. I plotted one foot in front of the other, mimicking Amelia's certain footsteps. I felt my small boost of confidence falter when my eyes peered up from the redhead's heels and see where we were going. There in there cherry orchard was a cleared path of grass, the walkway marked by thick trails of petals on either side. There were white chairs lined up with lanterns on stands so the pathway was illuminated with light, the small crowd rising when we approached the aisle.

The group consisted of who I believed to be Darren's sister, a girl with Darren's light ash brown hair and green eyes, although there was the faintest traces of hazel splatters in her irises. Her stomach ballooned away from her, her body curved with signs of an early puberty and breasts swollen with milk. She was very far along by the largeness of her stomach, one hand tucked underneath it and the other resting above her navel. She was with her husband and two other women who looked maybe only two or three years older than her. There were also a pair of first generations and toddler each on their lap. A younger looking first generation woman with light brown hair and a pixie cut sat with a tall, surly looking man in the front row of the chairs.

The pathway widened out to an opening with a gazebo sitting at the end, the gazebo decorated with strings of lights. Darren smiled as we filed up the steps, spreading out in a vertical line to Darren's left. There was a table with four white ring boxes and one black one.

The preacher's mouth was moving but not a sound was coming out. My eyes were on Darren, my hearing picking up only blurred white noise. Our to-be husband was grinning at the lot of us, his eyes traveling our dresses in disbelief. The preacher was still talking, speaking to the crowd now as Darren's eyes met mine, my pulse stopping dead for a moment before speeding up again. The whole day had felt so rushed as if the time had just slipped right between my fingers. Darren had picked up one of the white boxes and waved the dirty blonde out of the line.

"Elaine Banner. My wife," Darren spoke, his voice clear in the muddled sounds. Elaine leaned forward, Darren placing a kiss on her forehead.

A wave of emotion passed over Amelia's face as she was called forward. She struggled to compose herself, Darren slipping a ring on her finger.

"Amelia Banner. My wife."

Amelia stepped back in line before he could kiss her forehead.

My breathe hitched when it was my turn to step toward him. I felt as if I couldn't get enough air, my senses reeling. My skin felt cold and my legs like lead as if all of the blood had rushed down to my feet.

"Raina Banner," Darren said, his voice nearly a whisper as he took in my ghostly appearance. He took my hand, his forehead crinkling in concern while his eyes shone with an emotion I couldn't place. "My wife."

He wavered, moving on as I stepped back in line without a kiss.

My heart was beating a mile a second, my lungs aching for air I couldn't supply to them. The ring on my finger, a white gold ring with a diamond in the middle and the wedding band with small and decorative opals arching over the precious stone that signified my marriage. The ring felt like a rock on my finger, one I was having trouble lifting.

"Valerie Banner," Darren addressed. He handed her the black box as he slipped a ring on her finger. "My wife."

"Darren Banner," my oldest sister wife stated as she put a white gold ring on his finger. "My husband."

Valerie grabbed him, the crowd cheering and clapping as the preacher proclaimed we were man and wives, Valerie's lips locked upon Darren's in a frantic dance for his favoritism.

I didn't see them break apart. I was ushered away by my domestic, Madison dragging me back up to my room and sitting me down on my ottoman. She might have been talking as she undressed me and redressed me, undid my hair and washed away my makeup. I felt somewhat calmer, the ring still heavy on my hand and my legs still lead.

Madison put me in a very revealing strapless blue dress, one that hugged my every curve and pronounced it more so. The dress came up to my mid thigh with matching six inch stilettos, blood red lipstick, and blue eyeshadow. My hair was down in a waving, loose mess that was supposed to be considered seductive.

"This symbolizes that you are a woman. You are ready for your husband to come to you at anytime," Madison explained.

I couldn't see properly. There were alarms in my skull, my heartbeat a convulsing panic. Someone was sitting on my chest.

"Raina?" Amelia asked in the elevator. I thought it was the elevator. I felt so cold. So heavy but so light. My skin was crawling with the close quarters of the elevator. Amelia was in a crimson dress to match her hair, Valerie in a green one, and Elaine in an orange one.

Maybe it was orange. The colors kept changing, the walls moving and whispering as if someone was crawling through the vents.

There was a dinner table, the woman with the pixie cut at one head and the surly man at the other.

"I'm Housemistress Camilla and my husband over there is Housemaster Thadius," the woman said. Her voice kept changing, wavering. Darren's eyes were locked on me, brows raised anxiously. Valerie twittered on and on, Elaine giggling as she tried to catch our husband's attention. Amelia added in wit every now and again.

"Where are you from, Raina?" Housemistress Camilla inquired.

"C-C-Chicago," I stammered in a gasp.

"Charming," Housemaster Thadius muttered, very much unamused.

Why couldn't I breathe? Why was I having such trouble? My breaths were rapid and fast, light as I contained them and made them be quiet. My eyes felt wet. The weight on my chest was smothering me. Camilla was chirping with Valerie as if nothing was happening. I stared down at my plate, unsure of what was there. The world was spinning. I was going to be sick.

It was as if I was underwater, my vision two swimming tunnels as I fell from my chair, something loud and painful in my chest. My breathing was accelerating and becoming loud and labored. My lips moved. Someone screamed. Maybe it was me. It was a voice I didn't recognize.

I wobbled to my feet, leaning against the wall. Chairs were squealing, voices blurred messes. People were surrounding me. Why wouldn't they leave me alone? I didn't want them to touch me. Why weren't they helping me? Why weren't they touching me?

"Get away," I heard myself slur. A pair of hands grabbed me, warm and safe, as I collapsed into their arms. My legs that had been cement blocks dissolved into wiggling mush, the tunnels in my vision collapsing in upon themselves.

* * *

_The cherry grove was abundant with noises, the blossoms cascading into my hair with every shake of the wind. My head was canted up at the glimpses of sky through the cracks of the branches when a familiar sound caught my ears. _

_ "You've certainly managed to get yourself into some trouble, haven't you stupid?" _

_ I grinned and spun around to see Brighton emerging from the cherry trees behind me. His long legs closed the distance between us and his smile widened. _

_ "It's weird that a world so nasty can be so pretty," Brighton whispered. _

_ "You were never one to stop and smell the roses," I teased. _

_ Brighton took my hand in his. "And look how I ended up for that!" _

_ My smirk crumpled. "I could have saved you. It's my fault. I told you for us to take that street-" _

_ "Raina, I love you, but stop," Catherine interjected as she appeared out from the trees. She took my other hand, her eyes wide with wonder. _

_ "C'mon. Let's go home," Brighton said. Hand in hand we walked through the cherry trees, the light of the sun consuming us. _

* * *

I awoke to a plethora of aches a certain damp coolness on my clammy forehead. Little by little the narrow corridors widened and the weights upon my eyelids lifted, noise seeping into my ears.

"What happened to her?" Amelia's voice was the first to enter my brain stream.

"I'd call it some sort of panic attack. People can be prone to them when they get too anxious about things." A voice I didn't recognize.

"Will she be alright?" Darren's voice was raised an octave and tight with worry. Something was strangling my hand.

"She's going to be fine," a deep voice chided.

"Why won't she wake up?" Elaine asked.

"Lady Raina will. Right now we'll just have her domestic change her and let her go to bed."

The sounds faded to be replaced by my face being washed with a towel and the clothes on my back being exchanged for something made of silk. The lights clicked off in the room, my door closing. Footsteps echoing away. My hand was still in the clasp of another.

Everything came into startling focus when I opened my eyes.

"Raina?" Darren inquired softly. His green eyes hovered over mine.

"Y-Yes?"

Darren heaved a sigh of relief. "Are you okay? Are you in pain?"

I shook my head.

"Why didn't you say anything? I noticed that you didn't look very good and when you started sobbing and fell off of your chair my father finally listened to me. The doctor said you had an anxiety attack. Do you remember anything?"

A tsunami of embarrassment flooded into me. I tried to croak out an answer but I simply buried my face in my pillow, to abashed to respond.

"I wanted to stay with you but my uncle said it was dumb of me too. I was worried about you. I thought...I didn't know if..." He was unable to finish his sentence. "Is it okay if I lay with you in case you get sick again?"

The concern in his eyes was stunning and all too real. Darren didn't seem the type that would force himself upon me and he didn't seem to have consummating our new marriage on his mind. I opened up the blankets, letting him intrude into my bed and my space. Darren didn't snuggle right up next to me, instead choosing to rest beside me with only our arms touching. I rolled over onto my stomach as exhaustion set in. Darren uttered something that I didn't catch as the tunnels formed in my vision once again, this time for sleep instead of abrupt unconsciousness, and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

* * *

_~Illumini_


End file.
